Disturbia
by SilvrBlade
Summary: They said it would stop hurting after a while. They promised it was going to get better soon. Well they lied. It got worse.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: Olivia's point of view one-shot. Rated M for references and events of self-harm. Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts, I'd love to know what you think. :)**

I can't remember the last time I've felt so alone. So cold. The world seems to buzz by in a blur, and I can't focus on anything. I eventually give up on trying to focus on anything and just sit, staring out at the rain as it splatters against the plastic bullet-proof windows of the precinct. Each drop is like a tiny tear, and it reminds me of the millions I have cried in the past.

And yet, the rain seems to calm me as I sit, as if it is washing away any pain I am feeling. I close my eyes, listening to the quiet hush of it as it hits the windows and the sidewalk below. It seems so much clearer to me now, so much more significant. These were the kinds of things I had never really noticed before, and now I was opening up my entire heart to them. Or at least, what was left of it.

"Benson!" My name snaps me out of my dreaming, and the pain suddenly rears up and crashes back onto me like a black tidal wave. Suddenly, I am broken again. Suddenly, I am alone once more. "How are those DD5's coming?"

"Fine!" I reply sharply, with a little more force than I had intended. But it doesn't seem to faze anyone. Not that it would.

I lift my fingers to the keyboard, but I don't type. I suddenly have no energy, and I can't even find the words to type up my report. Tears burn in my eyes and threaten to streak down my cheeks, but I fight them as hard as I can. I can't cry in here, in front of everyone. Not now.

I shoot up from my chair and stalk to the bathroom, my tears tugging at me even more. I know people are looking at me, confused, but I don't care. I go into a stall and slam the door behind me, tears now streaking down my cheeks as I grot my teeth to try to stop them. Eventually, I just let them fall silently, because I knew that was the only thing I could do right now.

"Olivia?" someone called. I swear under my breath as Casey's voice echoes off the tile and reaches my ears. I wipe at my eyes, hoping they don't have streaks under them. "Liv are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Casey," I snap. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Are you sure?" she asks. She comes closer to the door and I swear silently again. "Do you need-"

"No, Casey, just go please!"

My voice is harsh, but I can't help it. I know I have just hurt her, but I am relieved as the door closes behind her as she leaves. I don't want her to see me like this. What I am about to do. I stick my hand into my pocket and pull out my wallet. Inside, there is a sharpened blade. Nothing significant about it, except for its purpose. I take it out and put my wallet back, wincing as the cold blade touches my hand. And yet, the cold is almost revitalizing, as if it is working already.

I bring it to my skin, feeling the goosebumps on my arm raise at the intense chill of the small silver object. I have to do it now, I tell myself. Before I lose confidence. Before it's too late. I inhale deeply and but pressure on the blade as it cuts through my skin and begins to ooze crimson. I gasp in pain, but I keep going until the cut is three or four centimeters. I then put the blade down and watch the crimson fluid drip down my olive skin, almost having some sort of cleansing effect. I can think now. I can breathe.

I put the balde away and got up, opening the door to the stall and walking over to the sink. To my dismay, however, Casey walks in.

"Liv!" she cries, eyeing the blood. "What happened?"

"I accidently scratched myself on the toilet paper roll holder," I tell her, cringing as if I didn't mean to do it. "No big deal. I'll clean it up and it'll be fine."

Casey doesn't look like she believes me for a second, but I don't care. I simply walk over to the sink and turn on the water to cold, and rub some soap on my hands. When she's gone, I run my arm under the freezing water, shivering as the goosebumps raise again. I watch as the blood from my cut mix with the soapy water and drain down to the white porcelin. Then, it stops, and I turn off the water and dry my hands and arm.

As I walk out, I am met by my partner.

"Hey," he smiles. "How are you? Casey said you hurt yourself."

I flinch. What does he mean by that?

"Yeah," I reply hesitantly. "I scratched it by accident."

I start to walk away, but he grabs my wrist and holds it up so he can see it better.

"And what are THESE from?" he asks, pointing to the other marks I've made.

I rip my wrist away and glare at him.

"I told you about where I got those."

_I lied to you about where I got those._

"But you didn't tell me the truth."

_No, I didn't tell you the truth._

"Says who?"

"Your neighbor. I checked with the people in your building. None of your neighbors have a cat, not that one is going to sctratch you so many times that it scars."

"So I got the person wrong. I got her mixed up with someone else. My mistake."

_My mistake was getting myself into this._

"Liv, the mistake you're making is trying to lie to me."

_You're right. _

"You're wrong. I'm not lying to you, and if you think I am that's your problem."

"I want you to be able to talk to me, Liv."

"Please, Elliot, just leave me alone."

_I'm sorry._

I grab my jacket and head to my desk, hoping he won't follow me. But he does. As I sit, I pull my sleeves further over my scarred wrists. I think my new cut had started bleeding again.

"Olivia, please," Elliot pleads. "I want to know what's wrong. You've been so off lately; it's been scaring me."

"I'm just tired, okay?" I snap.

This is true. The first true words I've uttered to him today.

"That's not just it though," he tells me matter-of-factly. "Olivia, listen to me. I want to help you help yourself, but in order for me to do that you have to be willing to help yourself."

"You don't know anything about me, Elliot!" I glare. "You think you do, but you haven't even scratched the surface!"

"Olivia," he says softly, kneeling down and putting a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. Tears again jerk at my eyes, and it's all I can do to keep them away. "Olivia, Liv, please... tell me. I don't know. You're right. So tell me... please."

I open my mouth, but I can't find the words. They've gotten caught in my throat, and it kills me. He is being so kind; he wants to be strong for me. But I don't want him to be strong for me. I want to be strong for myself.

"I'm sorry, Elliot," I sigh, a stray tear running down my cheeks. He wipes it away, and it makes me cry harder. "I can't tell you. It's too much. I... I have to go. I'm sorry."

I jump up and run out the door, and down the stairs. It's too much to bear. I go to my car and get in, but I don't start it. I can't. I put my face in my hands and sob. My chest convulses I am cry so hard, and it just makes me hurt more. By now, the pain that had once been held at bay, is drowning me. I choke on my tears, because it is now harder to breathe. Everything hurts. And the one thing I can do about it sits in my wallet.

But I don't touch it. Though my body yearns for the feel of the blood soaking my skin and freeing me of the mental anguish I feel now, I can't bring myself to do it again. I at least owe it to Elliot to restrain, if even just for a day or so. My tears stain my cheeks and drip down to my shirt, and I can taste their saltyness on my lips. It hurts so much.

I put the key into the ignition when I feel I am ready, and I can already feel Elliot's watchful gaze burning into the back of my skull as I pull out of the parking lot. I'm going home for now, but I'll come back tomorrow, to repeat the never ending cycle that appears to be today. I don't know how much more I can take of this. I really don't. My only hope is that my silent prayers for help will be answered, and I will be delivered from this hellhole.

Perhaps maybe, but certainly not today.

_Only one way to stop the pain._

_Only one way to bring back the rain._

_Only one way to ease the strife._

_Only one way to come back to life._

_Only one way to clear the fog._

_Only one way to clean the smog._

_Only one way to stop the aching._

_Only one way to keep my spirit from breaking._

_Only one way to steer clear of the rocks._

_Only one way to stop the pain when it knocks._

_Only the way to keep moving on._

_Only one way to keep my body strong._

_Only one way to keep my fate my own._

_Only one way to stop being alone._

_Only one way to keep the voices at bay._

_Only one way to say "Stay away"._

_Only one way to know I am still here._

_Only one way to drive back the fear._

_Only one way to stop the confusion._

_Only one way and only one conclusion._

_Only one way to say that I'm done._

_Only one way to stop having to run._

_Only one way to stop making me need._

_That one only way is by making me bleed._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: Eh, okay, I lied. I decided to continue it. :) It's really most likely just going to be just a serious of one-shots in one that just happen to go together. But either way, I really hope you enjoy. Please don't forget to review! **

The pressure in my head is escalating. I can't think, much less speak. My head plunks to my desk with a bang, and I let out a small groan. I can't bring myself to even move. Everyone has gone home, and I think about today. No one confronted me; no one asked how I was doing. Elliot would shoot me peculiar looks now and again, but I reassured him -I hope- with a smile and always went back to my work. I sigh. I can't believe how well I must be hiding this, if even Elliot, my partner and best friend, has absolutely no idea what is happening.

I slowly roll up my sleeves and run my fingers gently along the angry red lines that cross each other and snake up my wrists and arms. Some of them are pink and raised, announcing new scars being imprinted in my skin, to remain there until the end of time. Others are bright red and scabbing over, voicing the newest and most recent marks I've made to fight for my sanity.

"Battle scars," I find myself murmuring, and smile. The name seems to fit.

I close my eyes and feel my brain pulse inside my head. There are no tears today, but I can feel them waiting. Waiting for me to crack. I sigh for what seems like the hundredth time, praying silently for the comforting but temporary release of sleep. If I'm lucky tonight, there will be no nightmares. Maybe, if I'm even luckier, there will be no dreams at all, and I will just be able to sleep deeply and peacefully. These chances are slim, however, and I push the thought away. No use in hanging onto a worthless hope.

My wallet seems to be burning a hole in my back pocket. But my mind is made up. I can't touch it, at least not today. I owe it to Elliot. No, I decide. I owe it to myself. I can't sleep, so I sit there for what seems like hours on end. I have finished all of my paperwork, so I don't know what to do with myself. Should I wait it out? I think. Should I go home? I certainly can't drive in this condition, but can I get a taxi and get ride home? Before I know it, I notice that the pain is gone. I am numb. I smirk to myself, and I almost chuckle. I am an idiot. I should have seen this coming.

As I feel the numbness take over me, I shiver as I feel the familiar dull aching it leaves in my body. Now, I feel… well, I don't feel. And it kills me. It's strange, not feeling anything, as though you are just simply empty. You can move, and you can speak, but it's not the same. Not the same as living. At least, with the pain, you feel _something._ When I'm numb, I function. But I don't feel.

I think back to something I'd heard a while before, though where I heard it escapes me. I think it is something George Huang had told me once, though I can't remember his exact words.

_The cutter cuts, because it is the only thing they have control over. Once, there was a man who would bash his head into the wall over and over again to drive away the mental pain of what he was going through. By diverting the physical pain to the back or front of his head, he was not only distracting himself, but gaining control of how much pain he felt, and where. _

Nicely put, George. At least you seem to know what I'm going through.

I sigh, once again, and feel the aching reach my limbs, and then go to my already pounding head. I wince, because it is a lot. But to anyone else who could be watching, all they see is the wince. They don't see what is happening inside me; the pain that washes over me each and every day. Even breathing seems to hurt, and I feel sleep is my only escape. Well, maybe not my only escape. But I've promised myself I wouldn't do that, and I refuse to go back on my word. At least I can keep myself to that.

I open my eyes, since I am now able to, and I sit up. But I don't push my luck by trying to stand and walk around. Baby steps. I just simply look around, trying to adjust my eyes to the dark room. I'm not tired anymore, not that I ever could have slept anyway. The aching is all over my body, and I can't do anything about it. No, that's a lie. I _won't _do anything about it.

And yet, I need it. I hate how much I depend on it, but I need it none the less. The chill of the cold silver, the trickle of the blood, the pulse of my veins as they pumps crimson down my olive tanned skin… it's all there is to distract me from my suffering, and though I despise it, I can't help but wonder what other alternatives I might have. My mind turns up blank. There are none.

I groan and let my head fall back down to the desk, only lighter this time. I don't want to have it hit the metal to hard, and have it send painful vibrations throughout my skeletal system. That would just make me hurt even worse. And I _really_ don't want that. It might just be the thing that sends me over the edge.

I am on the brink. I can sense it. I have been suffering this so long, and I don't even know where it has originated from. It suddenly came out of nowhere, like a silent, black ghost, and has followed me ever since. I wish with all my might for it to go away, for it to cease. But, as I have witnessed before, my wishes don't seem to come true anytime soon. Maybe that's a reason for my pain; the fact that I am hoping too much. One would think that with my career, I would know about these things first hand. Ha! If only people knew what we suffered, day after day, week after week, listening to more and more people tell their stories of sorrow and loss of control.

It doesn't just break hearts, I would tell them. It breaks minds.

I sigh and pick up a pen, my only weapon for the time being. I pick up a piece of paper, and just begin to write my thoughts. It works. I can breathe.

_Inquiry_

They say that actions  
Speak louder than words.  
But then what, pray tell,  
Can speak louder than actions?  
And do tell me, for I know not,  
Are there truly silver linings  
Behind every storm cloud as they say?  
Are the truly second chances  
For us poor, unfortunate sinners?  
Or do we just kid ourselves  
With false hopes and  
Useless dreams?  
While dreams sing with the voices of many  
Come together as one,  
We must face the fact  
That all dreams may not come true.  
Yes, in fairytales, maybe,  
But life is definitely no fairytale.  
We certainly have no genie in a bottle,  
No three wishes to be granted at our liking.  
We make our own wishes come true,  
As cliché as it sounds.  
We work hard and we try hard  
And sometimes we just can't win.  
But that's just part of life,  
And I have learned to accept that.  
But does that mean we give up  
If we have no other path to take  
Than the path with obstacles  
We know we cannot face?  
Hm, perhaps.  
If one was to believe it would help;  
To give up,  
I would have no objections.  
I certainly have thought of it as well,  
Though it seems silly to me.  
Wasteful, almost.  
It seems giving up would be  
Unfulfilling and boring.  
But I guess it just depends  
On one's point of view.  
And we the people of the United States  
In order to form a more perfect union  
Have strived to overcome  
As many obstacles as we can.  
We may not have done it  
"Efficiently" or "in the best way possible",  
But who are you to judge?  
Had you been in their situation  
In that time period,  
You would have the same views as well.  
We cannot change the past,  
No matter how hard we try.  
We can only move forward.  
Again, as cliché as it sounds.  
And also, there is the term:  
Learn from your mistakes.  
Well we make too many to begin with!  
It's insulting to think that  
People seem to want to believe that  
We will simply make one mistake  
And be perfect the next day  
Because we remember all  
Of the mistakes we made  
the previous day.  
No one does that,  
Though it seems to be a common hope.  
You are not that perfect;  
Nor am I for that matter.  
But that does not mean we  
Should be expected to simply  
Get up and fix ourselves?  
It's insulting and rude,  
And I despise the term.  
But even as I drabble,  
Just for the sake of speaking,  
I feel justified and happy.  
I feel I have made my point,  
And so I rest.

So as I lay me down to sleep,  
I ponder the secrets I have to keep.  
And I wonder if they're worth the while,  
But finally just let go, and smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I've stopped functioning. I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I can't breathe. My chest is weighted with the heaviness of my pain, and once again I find myself wishing for the end. I'm confused. Usually, I am able to get past it, if even for a couple of hours. But today, I am gone. Lost. No air reaches my lungs, no colors reach my eyes, and I am simply… empty. I sit at my desk at the precinct for what seems like hours. Elliot puts a hand gingerly on my back from behind, and I flinch violently at the gentle touch he gives me. By now, even the slightest touch hurts like a gunshot wound through my entire body.

"Sorry!" he cries, clearly surprised by my actions. "I didn't know you were so jumpy!"

"I'm fine," I retort nervously. I regain my composure as quickly as I can before he notices. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go for some coffee," he replies, a bit flustered by the angry glint in my eyes that I know he sees. Damn me. "But if you're busy that's fine too."

I think on it for a minute. For the past few days, I have been in so much pain, just by even breathing. And even as I sit here now, I know that even though it will hurt like crazy, if I don't go with Elliot he will definitely know something is up. Then he would try to interfere, because that would be a very Elliot thing to do. And I don't want that… right?

"Sure," I reply hesitantly, faking a smile that I hope looks like a real one.

"I'll go get the car," he smiles, pleased that I have accepted his offer. I've got him. "Come down when you're ready."

My mind is racing as he leaves. Not that I know what for. I can't focus on anything at this point. I try to figure out what I'm going to do, but nothing comes to me accept a giant headache and a sick feeling in my stomach. So, I give up on that, I muster up all of the energy I can, and simply get up from my desk and walk away. But in the process, I come to a realizeation: my life is falling apart around me. My will power is crumbling, my mind is melting, and I'm losing all control I used to have. I look down at my hands, as if expecting them to crumble along with my sanity.

_You're going crazy, and it's all your fault._

I am shocked by this new development. I have never been one to hear voices- the crazy pedophiles we see every day hear voices. Schizophrenics hear voices. Hysterical people in hospitals on morphine hear voices. Detective Olivia Benson does NOT hear voices... except maybe the ones planted inside her own head.

_You're not going to make it, you know. You're weak. Always have been, always will be._

Shut up, I find myself retorting. You don't know anything.

_Oh, look at you! Having a conversation with yourself. Congratulations, you have just reached a new level of-_

I don't need to hear it from you.

_But you're hearing it from youself. Since, of course, I _am_ you..._

I'm confused.

_And crazy._

SHUT UP!

Before I know it I'm sprinting down to the car, through the pouring rain. I don't want to hear it. I jump in and slam the door behind me, my hair dripping and my eyes refusing to make contact with my partner's concerned gaze.

"Do you... wanna talk about it?" he asks hesitantly.

"Drive," I order through clenched teeth.

My head is pounding, and it hurts badly. I just need to get away. He nods and begins to pull the car out.

_You're such a child. He wants to help you, and you're pushing him away._

I don't want to drag him down.

_But you're doing so anyway. Face it, Benson, you're no good for anyone. You can't win._

I hate to admit it, but it's true.

_Come with me. I can stop the pain._

I blink. What? The voice has gone from ridiculing me to offering help within moments.

_I can. I promise._

I am crazy.

_Yes, you are. All the more reason to let go._

I can't.

_You can._

I...

_Just let go, Olivia._

No. I'm tired. Leave me be.

_I'll be waiting._

I hear no more.

"Olivia," Elliot says, not taking his eyes from the road, "you have that look in your eye."

I can't reply. I simply can't. It's not physically possible.

He pulls up to a coffee shop, and he gets out. I hesitate, but get out too. We pick a table near the back, and order some coffee. When it finally arrives, it feels like hours later. I take a hesitant sip and drop my gaze to my drink when I realize Elliot is looking at me intently.

"Liv," he says. "You can't fight this on your own."

"Fight what?" I rasp, my voice hoarse from not speaking for a while.

"This," he repeats. "What you're going through."

"And how do you know what I'm going through?" I snap.

Elliot looks at me uncertainly.

"I... took some online quizzes..." he replies, blushing slightly. "They all came back positive. Just, tell me, Olivia; how long has this been happening?

Don't even get me started.

I'm hesitant to reply to his question. To answer him, is to confess to my ailing mind. To answer, is to let my long-held secret escape. To confess.. is to make it real. But then, if I remain silent, I push him father away. I outright reject him. And I would rather die before I did that.

_You may end up doing that._

I thought you left.

"Elliot," I tell him, staring at my hands, blankly "I... I just don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he tells me quickly, a hint of hope glimmering in his eyes. He thinks he can get me to talk. He takes my hand in his and looks into my eyes. "Olivia, I only want what's best for you. And to see you in pain... I just can't have that."

"I'm so sorry, Elliot," I tell him. My wrists are throbbing. It's time. I've waited long enough.

I'm so sorry.

"I have to use the bathroom," I announce, shooting up and walking swiftly to the bathroom before he can object.

I slam the door behind me, my sorrow quickly turned to rage. I pull out the blade from my wallet quickly and stare at it, my venomous gaze reflecting back at me.

Why must you be like this? You are weak! Pathetic! You need to be punished!

I bring the blade down to my wrists. The cutting edge is dangerously close to my purple-blue veins. And yet, I don't care. It fazes me no longer.

_Do it. I dare you._

"NOOO!"

Before I can regain myself, I am slammed into the bathroom's tile wall by a bulky force. The blade drops from my hand, and I cry out.

"Let me go!" I cry, and he gets off of me.

He picks up the blade and stares at me.

"Olivia!" he scolds. "I can't believe you! Lying openly to my face, and then sneaking behind my back to KILL YOURSELF? I know you better than that!"

"Shut up, Elliot!" I scream, my voice straining and releasing the pain I have been feeling for a long time. "You don't know anything! ANYTHING! I have been to Hell and back, and you have the nerve to act like I'm some sort of monster! No, El, I take that back. I'M. STILL. IN. HELL. And don't even try to sympathize, okay? You're going to say you understand, but you don't! You'll never understand! You don't know what it's like, Elliot, until you experience it yourself."

I'm done with my tirade. I sink to my knees, drained of energy. I am empty again. There is no rage. No mocking shadow. No blood. Only me, and my tears. I can feel Elliot's gaze burning into my skull. He is unsure of what to say. So he says nothing. And I am grateful for his silence.

We stay like that for a while. He stands over me, and I remain on my knees, weeping. The gears turn in his head as he tries to find the right words to say to me.

"Liv," he finally musters. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

He finally kneels down next to me and takes me into his arms, into a tight hug. His breath is hot against my face, and I curl up into his shoulder. I am comforted by his warmth, and then, suddenly, like a blanket being take off, I am released. My tears stop, and I sit with him for hours. His warmth comforting me; his presence all I need to move on.

"Thank you," I murmur.

"For what?" he asks, surprised my my new calm energy.

I smile at him thankfully.

"For being my partner."

**Notes: Sorry for the long wait! I've been busy. :P Please review, por favor! It makes me happy inside, and inspires me to write faster. :) Gracias!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

My wrists throb with the wanting. I never truly understood it until now. No, I take that back; I still don't understand it. But now I can really see the need my body has for the blade. I am desperate.

Elliot has taken everything sharp from my apartment, despite my protests. He took all of my silverware except the spoons, he took my gun, my pocket blade, and yes, he took any glass I had in case I went crazy and smashed it. I suppose I should thank him for helping, but right now my mind is filled with the want and need for blood.

"Elliot!" I call.

"What's up, Liv?" he asks.

I rub my arm nervously.

"Where's my wallet?" I ask.

He gives me a stern look.

"You mean 'where is your cutting blade'?" he asks.

"Don't call it that," I order, my head dropped in shame. "Elliot you don't understand... I need it. Badly."

"You're recovering, Liv," he tells me, coming over and sitting next to me on the couch. He examines my wrists with satisfaction. "See? They're healing. They'll scar, yes, by they're healing."

I pull my wrist away, still ashamed. I glance at my nails, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. He hasn't made me cut my nails. I can see them against my skin, and the throbbing grows worse. Unfortunately, Elliot follows my gaze.

"Don't," he warns, growling and grabbing my hands. "Olivia, I mean it. DON'T."

"I... I won't," I tell him, though it is a big lie. I can't even bring myself to look at him. "I won't."

"Promise me," he orders. I hesitate, and he squeezes my hands harder. "Olivia…"

"I promise," I blurt. But the words are as meaningless as they have come out of my mouth. "I… I promise."

"Good," he smiles, and pats my hands. He gets up and walks to the kitchen, and begins to go through my fridge. "What do you want to do for dinner?"

"It doesn't matter," I say, running my fingers gently over the puckered skin of my scars. I've been doing that a lot lately. I can feel the raised skin, and I sigh to myself.

What did I ever do to deserve this?

_This will take a while. _

My eyes open wide.

You're back.

_I never left._

I told you to leave.

_Shame, that. I was having so much fun talking to you._

Go away.

_I'm never going to leave you alone, Olivia. _

Fuck you.

_Language, please!_

I shake my head in disgust, and Elliot notices.

"Are you okay, Liv?" he asks, taking a pot out of the cabinet. He looks at it sternly and blows the thick layer of dust off.

"Fine," I reply, shaking my head again.

_Liar, liar, pants on fire. _

Can you PLEASE just SHUT UP?

_Can I? Yes. Will I? Um… no._

You disgust me.

_Ditto._

"Olivia, are you sure you're okay?" Elliot asks. By now I'm sure he is concerned.

"I'm fine, Elliot!" I snap, with more force than I had originally intended. "Just leave me alone!"

I shoot up and storm into my room, my ears ringing with the bang as I slam the door. I begin to cry, covering my face with my hand as I stand, sobbing. I don't know what has come over me, nor do I care. But that doesn't stop my partner. Slowly, Elliot opens the door and walks in. He approaches me just as slowly, and wraps him arms around me comfortingly. He buries his face in my hair and I lean into him, aching for comfort.

"It's okay, Liv," he tells me soothingly. "Everything will be okay."

"I don't know what to do, Elliot," I admit, tears running down my cheeks. "One minute I'm happy as can be, and the next I'm… I'm like this!"

"Shhh….it's okay, Olivia," Elliot smiles, pulling me closer. "It's going to be okay. You'll be okay. We'll get through this together."

"I don't want to drag you down, Elliot," I told him, pulling away. "You'd be smart to just walk out that door and never come back. It's okay, Elliot. I won't be mad."

But like I had expected, he just pulls me tighter and hugs me.

"You know I could never do that to you, Liv," he smiles. "I could never leave you like this."

"I know," I sigh, still crying. "I just don't want you hurt either."

"Olivia," Elliot assures me, "the only thing you could do to hurt me would be to tell me you didn't want to be around me anymore."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I simply lean back into him and sigh.

"Thank you, Elliot," I sigh, closing my eyes, "for being here for me."

"I'll do anything for you, Liv," he smiles. "You're my best friend, and there will never be another person like you."

"Thank you, Elliot," I repeat.

"I'll stay with you, Liv," Elliot smiles. "I'll help you through this. Like I said, we'll get through it together. The both of us; I'll be here for you."

"ELLIOT YOU BASTARD!" I spin around to see Kathy, of all people, standing in my doorway.

"Kathy?" Elliot cries. "What are you doing here?"

"Finding my husband!" Kathy shouts, her face red with anger. "But I guess that means nothing to him now! I'm only the mother of your children Elliot, don't mind me! I don't want to _interrupt_ anything!"

"Kathy, wait!" Elliot cries, but she is already half-way out the door.

He runs out the door after her, grabbing her wrist.

"Let go of me!" Kathy orders, but Elliot remains strong.

"Kathy, it's not what you think!" he snaps.

"I heard what you said to her!" Kathy snaps back. "Elliot, what am I supposed to think! I can't have you cheating on me, Elliot!"

"You think…?" Elliot begins. "Kathy, no! No, no, no, Kathy, that is NOT what is going on here."

"Well what is going on, then, Elliot?" Kathy demands.

"Olivia's going through a tough time right now, Kathy," Elliot replies, "and she's having some issues she's having trouble working out. I need to be there to help her."

"What is it, Elliot?" Kathy asks, more concerned than angry now. She has never really hated, me, I realize… it was more just the general case of jealousy than anything else. But her nurse's instincts clearly have taken overs, and I can see she is now calm. "What's wrong with Olivia?"

"Kathy, she…" Elliot sighs before continuing. I give him a slight nod, allowing him to continue. "She's been cutting herself."

Kathy's heart has melted, and she runs back into the room. She embraces me tightly, tears running down her cheeks.

"Olivia, I'm so sorry!" she cries. "I never realized-!"

"It's okay, Kathy," I reply as she releases me. "I didn't mean to take Elliot away from his family."

"It's okay," Kathy replies. She fixes her bag over her shoulder, any evidence of her past sympathy gone in mere seconds. "I'm going to get the kids. Elliot, we're going out to dinner. You're going with your family."

"Kath, I'd love to, but I have to be here for-" Elliot began to say.

"Olivia can manage for a night without you," Kathy interjects sharply. "Get ready, Elliot, we're leaving."

Kathy leaves, and I put a hand on Elliot's shoulder.

"I'll be okay," I assure him. "Go ahead."

He just sighs and leaves, and I rub my arms nervously.

You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?

_Not by a long shot. _

**Notes: I am SOOOO sorry I haven't updated in a while but my internet has been down for the longest time because of a virus that caught my computer before I had the chance to get protection. The virus was a scam called Best Malware Protection, and caused my internet to malfunction. We got rid of the virus and got virus protection before any real damage was done, but that's why I haven't been able to update. If you guys ever see this Best Malware Protection, it is a SCAM and will screw with your computer. Haha my safety bit is over now. More angst and drama to come in the next chapter. X3 Thanks for reading and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I can't move.

I lay in my bed, shivering as another spasm induces me. I cry out in pain, but I know no one can hear me. It had crashed over me soon after Elliot had left, and I knew once he was gone he wouldn't be able to come back. I had assured him I would be fine, but I had lied. The truth was, I hadn't known if I would make it through the night. Now I was sure I wouldn't make it. My dreams had been riddled with nightmares, and I still shiver at the dark, violent memory.

_I was in Central park in the dead of night, shadows wrapping around me like clouds. They took one swipe at me after another, and I cried out each time. It shook my entire body, and I ached all over._

"_What do you want?" I cried in angst. "Stop! Please, stop!"_

_A dark form manifested in front of me in the shape of a man, his hair slick and his eyes dark as the shadows around him. He had the voice I recognized from my… conversations. But his voice had never sounded more dark and evil than it did now._

"_You're growing weaker, Olivia," he taunted, and with a swipe of his hand a shadow lashed out and swept through me, my entire body rippling with pain. I felt as though the was a giant hole in my chest, as though I had been hurt emotionally too. "He left you, Olivia. He chose his wife over helping you. And now you'll die here, alone, and unloved."_

_I wanted to reply, but I couldn't speak. He had stolen my voice, and all I could do was to sob on my side and wish for it all to go away. And then, everything had disappeared, I was falling._

_I couldn't find anything to cling to, and I fell so much deeper. I reached out for anything, anyone to grab onto. But they all fled and turned away. And with each rejection I fell deeper. First it was Alex, and then Casey. Then Fin, Munch, and Cragen. When Elliot approached, I was sure he would help, so I reached out my hand._

"_Please," I begged. _

_But he shook his head sadly, and Kathy came up behind him, gently stroking his neck and purring._

"_I'm sorry, Olivia," he whispered, and then he was gone. _

_And I fell deeper than I ever had. Then finally, I hit the bottom with a jolt, and I curled my knees to my chest in the darkness. I hurt physically, mentally, and now emotionally. I was going to die here, I realized, like he had said. Alone, and unloved._

"_No one loves you," the voice told me as the shadows returned and began to spiral me, "they proved that to you now. Your boyfriends never work out because you drive them away with your work, and the one man you love won't give up the other woman for you. Why, you ask? Because he thinks you're not worth it, Olivia. You're not worth it to him."_

_I sobbed into the hard, cold ground._

"_Why are you telling me this?" I demanded. "Why do you hurt me like this?"_

"_Because," he replied, his voice suddenly soft, "it doesn't have to be this way."_

_He kneeled down and rubbed my arm tenderly, and suddenly all of my pain was gone. I was alive again, and I could see._

"_This is how you could feel forever," he told me. _

"_What do I need to do?" I whispered._

"_End it," he replied. "You know how. It will come anyway, Olivia. It's best it happens now, before others have the chance to get hurt."_

_And like that, he was gone._

I open my eyes and blink, the voice ringing in my ears.

_End it. You know how._

I look at the scabs I have scratched at; they are still bleeding. But it isn't working. I need more blood. I get up abruptly, my body screaming at me through the aching to stop moving. But I ignore it, because if I can do this is will all be over.

Don't do it, a part of me whispers. He's tricking you. He feels cheated, and he doesn't want you getting away again.

I ignore it and look around. At the bed. At the lamp. At the table. Nothing is sharp enough to do the job I need. It would be easier to just jump out the… window. I spin around and look at the window. It is glass; it's perfect for what I need! All I need is something to smash it with! I grab the lamp numbly and thrust the butt of it against the window. It rings out with a thump, but the window doesn't break. I grit my teeth and do it again, harder this time.

"BREAK!" I shout, but it doesn't do as I say.

I cry out and do it again with all my might, and to my satisfaction, the window shatters to the ground. The broken pieces of glass look like raindrops on my carpet, but I can't marvel in it now. I have to end it. I know how.

_My somber beauty, _the voice purrs. _It's your time to come to me now. Go ahead; end it. We will love you over here, Olivia. We will never abandon you._

Images of my mother flash before my mind, and I grab a particularly sharp piece of glass in angst. I bring it to my skin, but hesitate. I can hear Elliot's words in my thoughts.

"_Olivia, don't! Don't you dare!"_

"I'm sorry, Elliot," I whisper.

And the glass begins to slice through my skin.

_It's not through a vein. You need a vein._

I look down to see I have missed the veins in my wrist.

If I bleed enough I won't need a vein.

_A vein will be faster. Easier._

Okay.

I go to the vein.

"_Olivia no!"_

And again, I hear Elliot's voice. He seems so close.

"Elliot," I whisper, "is that you?"

"_Olivia, put the glass down. Now, Liv__,__ I mean it__.__"_

"But I need it, El," I whisper. "You don't understand. I need it."

"_Don't do it, Olivia! Please! If you do this, I can't help you anymore."_

"Don't reject me again, Elliot," I begin to sob. "Don't do it again."

A strong pair of arms wraps around me, and the glass falls from my hand.

"I'll never leave you, Liv," Elliot whispers in my ear. "Never again."

**Notes: Pretty intense chapter if I do say so myself. :/ Hope I didn't scare y'all away. ;) Thanks for reading and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When I wake up, I'm lying on my couch. My wrists hurt like crazy, and when I look at them I realize they are bandaged up with gauze-like bandages. They have spots of red on them; big spots of red.

"You kept scratching yourself in your sleep," Elliot explains as he walks into my living room, rubbing his arm nervously. "you were bleeding a lot...I didn't know what else to do."

I don't reply, just nod my head. My head hurts with a throbbing pound, much like my wrists.

"What happened to me?" I whisper.

"I don't know, Liv," he tells me honestly. "I come back to get my coat and you're in your room, trying to kill yourself. Do you remember now?"

I groan as the memories come flooding back: the dream; the glass; the lamp; the voice. They seem all too real to me now, even though my head is clear and everything I had experienced the night before had disappeared.

"Are you going to be okay, Olivia?" he asks me, sitting down next to me and allowing me to lean against his broad, muscular chest. "I don't want you to keep hurting yourself.. I don't want to see you like this anymore. It hurts me."

"I'm sorry, Elliot," I tell him, and he wraps his strong arms around me. "I don't mean to hurt you."

"I just don't want you to hurt like this anymore," Elliot smiles, his face very close to mine.

"Well, the worst of it is over for now," I tell him. "I feel a lot better."

"Good," he replies. He remains silent for a while, and I know something is on his mind.

"Well spit it out, Elliot," I order. "I know there's something you're not saying?"

He hesitates before saying "You scared me, Liv. I thought I was going to lose you for sure."

I don't reply. The full consequence of my actions has dawned on me, and I realize truly, for the first time, what I was really doing to myself.

What was I trying to _do_?

"I don't want to lose you, Liv," he whispers, holding me close. "I can't. I just can't."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," he assures me softly. "Just, please, try not to do it anymore."

"I'll try," I say truthfully. "I promise."

"Good," he smiles. His mood seems to have lightened, and his eyes glimmer with a new hope. "Cragen called earlier, and he wants us to get to work. Do you think you can make it?"

"I think I can manage," I smirk, and I get up to change.

When I am ready, we walk down into the parking garage where he has parked his car, and he stops me from climbing into the driver seat.

"Not in this condition," he laughs. "I'm driving to work today."

"I can drive," I try to argue. "Just because I'm-"

"I'm driving," he interrupts, a broad grin on his face. "And you can either get in yourself, or I'll throw you in the car."

"Fine," I snap, and I get into the passenger side. Elliot gets in the driver side and puts the keys into the ignition. "So what does Cragen need us for?"

"A rapist targeting adolescents," Elliot replies, pulling the car out of its spot. "He needs us to check it out."

"What's his MO?" I ask, taking mental notes.

"He stalks them for a week, taking down their routines and making notes of every place they go," Elliot answers, pulling out onto the main road. "Then, once he has a good feel for where they go, he traps them and rapes them. Then, he stabs them in the stomach and leaves them for dead."

I gulp. "Has he left any survivors?"

"Fortunately, none of his victims have died," he replies, relief in his voice. "He uses a dull blade, and a small one. It doesn't penetrate deep enough to kill them."

"Good," I sigh. The last thing I need to think about is dead teenagers lying the streets, soaked in blood from stab wounds in their stomachs.

We arrive at the precinct and already the place is buzzing with people. Files are being handed off left and right, and voices are raised to the point of urgency.

"I didn't know this case was such high profile," I muse, walking past a couple of arguing unis.

"It's not," Elliot announces. He now has a lingering hint of worry and confusion in his eyes. He walks to Captain Cragen's office, taking my hand and pulling me with him. "Captain!" he calls. "What's going on?"

"He's raped again," Cragen replies, looking up from his phone call. He puts the phone receiver down and walks over to us. "I just got off the phone with the Chief of D's. I want you two on this case stat, kapeesh?"

"Sure, Cap," Elliot replies. He looks at me with a worried gaze, and I smile at him reassuringly. Cragen walks away, and Elliot turns to me. "How are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm doing okay at the moment," I reply truthfully.

"Good," he smiles. "You wanna head to our desks?"

"Sure," I smile.

We walk to our desks and notice piles of papers have already been plopped onto our desks unceremoniously.

"Great," Elliot groans. "More paperwork."

"Our favorite," I sigh. I sit down and pick up a file, clicking my pen and beginning to read. "Let's get to work then."

At midnight we have made no progress whatsoever. Elliot plunks his papers down on his desk in defeat, and holds his hands up to his head, leaning back into his chair and rubbing his eyes.

"I've got nothing," he announces, rubbing his eyes and looking at me. "You?"

"Nada," I reply. I quit my mad typing and lean back in my chair. "We have no name, no motive, and no identification of who our perp might be whatsoever. Not even a foreign hair in any of the crime scenes! Wiped clean! Jesus, El, I don't know how he's doing it."

"He's slick I'll give him that," Elliot sighs.

He puts his elbows on his desk and stares at me. I stare back.

"Yes?" I ask.

"You need some sleep," he replies with a smile. "And no fighting me, Liv, okay? Just go into the crib and catch a few hours of sleep."

I just nod and follow his orders, because truthfully, I was exhausted and drained entirely of energy. I would happily welcome a peaceful sleep. Little did I know my sleep would be anything but peaceful.

**Notes: Next chapter we step up the intensity a bit, just warning you. :) Thanks for reading and please don't forget to review!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_I was standing in Central Park again in the dead of night, stars glittering above me. The park itself was silent and peaceful, and I breathed in the cool night air as a light breeze swept through._

"_Hello Olivia."_

_I turned to see the man from my last dream standing before me, dressed finely with his hair slicked back._

"_Who are you?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer._

"_I think you know that, Olivia," he smiled back, showing off his perfect teeth. _

_I nod, but his name still escapes me. He waves his hand, and I am suddenly surrounded by shadows, like the ones who batted at me and hurt me in my last dream. I flinch in terror and prepare myself to run, but I sense something different about these shadows. They don't seem as bloodthirsty or as angry as they had in my last dream. Instead, tonight, they nipped at my heels playfully and stroked my face._

"_They like you," the man mused, his smile wide. _

"_It seems that way," I breathe. _

"_They are like you, Olivia," he told me, a shadow coming over to him. He stroked it lovingly, and sighs. "They came to me because they were broken spirits, lost and unloved. I have found you for these same reasons."_

"_Because I'm broken," I announced, understanding a bit more. "Unloved."_

"_Not necessarily unloved," he replied, looking longingly at the shadow. _

_I shook my head._

"_I don't understand," I told him. _

_He looked at me, and I could see he was hurting. Badly._

"_Elliot loves you," he told me, his voice brimming will pain. _

"_Is that a bad thing?" I ask._

_He sighs, and looks away. _

"_My entire afterlife is spent trying to help people," he announced, "people who have died. I take those tortured, broken, and shattered souls, and I take them in. I heal these souls, Olivia. It just frustrates me that I can't help you."_

"_You're trying to drag me down," I accused. "You want me here with you."_

"_But don't you want to stay?" he cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "Look around you, Olivia! Look at all of the peace here! You don't have to hurt here, Olivia! You can stay, and never have to deal with that again." He gazed at me, and he whispered softly "Why won't you stay?"_

"_I can't stay," I replied as softly as I could. "I have to be there for everyone I love."_

"_But were they there for you?" he demanded. His sorrow had turned anger in a flash. "Did they try to help you in your time of need and pain? Did they take the extra time to make sure you were safe? Elliot left you in your apartment, _alone. _Your co-workers have left you _alone. _They don't even notice you're hurting, Olivia. Why do you want to stay with them so badly?"_

_I thought back to the people at the 1-6; my family. I thought about all of the times we had spent together, about all of the all-nighters we had pulled, and about all of the times we celebrated triumphantly over drinks the closing of a case._

"_They're my family," I replied, "plain and simple. They need me, and I need them. If I asked them for help, they would be by my side in the blink of an eye. And as for Elliot, he was doing what he thought was best. I told him I would be alright. I let him go. It was my mistake, not his."_

"_There you go, blaming yourself!" he shouted. "When are you going to wake up and realize they're dragging you down? They're giving you something to worry about! They're giving you a reason to suffer! They're giving you a reason to stay and be miserable!"_

"_If I want to stay there, it's my decision!" I shouted back, annoyed. "It doesn't matter if I suffer, as long as I have them!"_

_He tossed his hands up in the air in defeat, and I huffed at him. _

"_You don't have them," he growled. "They're going to leave you, just wait and see. They'll ignore you, and they'll stop caring about you, and they'll leave you for dead. Just. You. Watch."_

"_They won't do that," I assured him, crossing my arms over my chest. "They wouldn't."_

"_You put too much faith in people, Olivia," he chuckled darkly. "You try to see the good in everyone, but sometimes, Olivia, there just isn't any there. Do you know what goes through your friends' heads? Do you truly know what they think of you? Maybe they laugh at you behind your back. Maybe they make jokes and call you weak when you cry about a case. But you don't know, do you? You don't, because you don't know them."_

"_And you don't know me," I retort. "You don't know what goes through _my_ head! You don't know what_ I _think! How do you know anything about me?"_

"_I'm inside your head, Olivia," he replied sharply, with a smirk. "I see everything. I know everything about you. I know what you're thinking right now. I know what you thought in the past. I can see life through your eyes. _That's _how I know, Olivia. And that isn't going to change."_

_I remained silent, because I knew he was right. Right now, he was inside my head reading me like a book. Reading my emotions, and my thoughts, and my memories, as though they were for public display. I felt degraded. I felt violated. I didn't want him there. I didn't want him knowing me; knowing the parts of me that I didn't even know._

"_I'm leaving," I announced._

"_No," he snapped, "you're not."_

_Somewhere in the distance, there was shouting, and the voices sounded eerily familiar. I could feel myself slipping out of the dream, and I could feel him panic._

"_No!" he shouted. "I'm not done with you yet!"_

_But I was already gone._

When I wake up, I find myself in the cribs again. I remember what had happened in my dream, and I remember the yelling. It's still there.

"Where's Benson?" I hear Cragen shout.

"The cribs," Elliot replies.

Suddenly, Cragen bursts through the door.

"Yes?" I ask, now completely awake.

"We've got a development on the case," he replies, a wild look in his eyes. "I need you guys in Central Park, _now._"

I leap up, shivering internally at the thought of going to Central Park. But I push it away and grab my gun from my desk.

I have work to do.

**Notes: There is a LOT coming up in the next couple chapters, just FYI. ;) Thanks for reading *points to lurkers* and REVIEW! YOU TOO!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I climb into Elliot's car and feel nausea overwhelm me. I cough back the urge to vomit, and I feel lightheaded.

Damn. Of all the times I was at home and relaxing, it had to be when I was about to catch a criminal that this happened to me again.

"You okay, Liv?" Elliot asks, looking over at me with worry as he climbs into the driver side. "You look sick."

"Just drive," I order, keeping my eyes on the windshield. I try desperately to push away the aching feeling that is creeping up through my bones. "Did Cragen give you the location?"

"Yeah," he answered, pulling the car out quickly and making the tires squeal. "We'll be there soon."

He drives down the road, and I watch the scenery pass me by. Every building, every tree, every flower.. they pass by quickly, and I get the haunting feeling that this will be the last time I ever see them. I am not sure what gives me this notion, but it's hard to ignore. This will be the day I die, something seems to say. Enjoy time while you have it.

I roll down the window and feel the warm breeze hit my face. I can smell the familiar scents of spring in it; fertilizer, freshly cut grass, and spring water. I take it in, and it comforts me, but I know this is the last time I will ever get this chance. Something inside tells me so, like a tiny alarm bell ringing inside my head. The wind from the outside whips through my hair and thrusts itself against my face, blowing hair out of my face and making a buffeting noise in my ears. But it doesn't annoy me like it usually does. I close my eyes and take it in; the moment.

My last moment.

It seems to take forever to get to Central Park. I remember Cragen telling Elliot something, and I remember Elliot telling the unis something, but I can't remember what they say. All I could really remember was "hidden shack" and "take him down". Elliot takes my hand and leads me down the walk, and I watch as the ESU climbs into the bushes to hide.

"Where is it?" I ask. "Where is he?"

"He's down at the end of the path," he answers. "For now, we look like a normal couple walking through Central Park so he doesn't suspect anything."

"He has surveillance?" I ask.

"No," he replies, "but it's best if we don't attract too much attention for now."

Soon, it seems, we are alone walking through the park along the stone path, watching butterflies fly from flower to flower, and watching the breeze make the leaves on the green trees rustle. Children play in the lush grass to the side of us, and as I watch Elliot puts an arm around my shoulder.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. I know he is worried about me. I am worried about me too.

"I'm okay," I lie. "I'm just, ya know, taking things in."

"Well, let's nail the son of a bitch first, and then we can sightsee," Elliot laughs. "I promise."

I simply nod. I don't have the energy to explain why I don't want to let this pass by. He leads me down the path, until we reach the shack. I can see the officers around us, hidden in the trees. Elliot takes out his gun, and instantly, I do the same. Elliot approaches the door, and calls to ESU.

"Olivia and I will take the shack," he says to them. "You guys check around and make sure he's not hiding around."

The ESU leader nods and heads out with his team, and Elliot prepares himself to kick down the door with his boot. With a bang he sends it flying back, and we bust into the wooden shack. It's reasonably sized for living, but still a bit cramped.

"Darren Willis!" Elliot shouts, coming in. "Police! Come out and show yourself!"

The door suddenly slams shut, and we spin around with our guns to see none other than Darren Willis standing behind us, holding a small but very powerful handgun.

"I ain't goin' ta jail!" he shouts, holding the gun with both quavering hands. "And if that means I have to kill ya, then dammit I'll kill ya!"

"Willis, put down the gun," Elliot orders, holding his steady.

"You put your gun down!" Willis shouts. His face is red, and he begins to perspire. He's nervous as hell, and that worries me. I don't want Elliot to get shot.

"Willis," I say softly in my 'victims' voice, "put the gun down. Please. We can talk this out. Just put it down, and we can all walk out of her alive."

"I don' wanna hurt you, Lady," he tells me, turning his gun toward me, and then back at Elliot. "But I don' wanna go ta jail neither!"

"We can talk about it with the ADA," I tell him, though I know this is a complete lie. "Maybe we can work something out."

He shakes his head wildly.

"Nah, I know what I did ta those lil' girls," he announces. "I didn't wanna, but I had ta! I couldn't stop maself!"

"It's okay, Willis," Elliot says, stepping a bit closer but keeping his gun level with the ground. "Just put the gun down."

"Don't come any closer!" Willis shouts hysterically, cocking the gun loudly. "I'll shoot ya! I'll shoot ya both!"

"Willis, please," I beg, "calm down."

"I'm. Not. Goin'. Ta. JAIL!" he shouts, and pulls back the safety to the gun with a loud click. My heart is racing, and blood is pounding in my ears. I have to defuse this situation, now, before all goes to hell.

"Willis, relax!" I order, my voice cracking with panic. "Please! We don't want to hurt you! We're trying to help you!"

"By putting me behind bars?" he scoffs. "Yeah, that'll work!"

"Willis," Elliot begins, and he takes a step closer.

A fatal step.

"No!" Willis shouts, and the gun goes off.

There is a ping, and I look at Elliot. He had braced himself for the fire and had fired his own gun, but he looks around in surprise. Willis, it seems, had missed. Elliot, however had not. Elliot looks around for the stray bullet, and finds nothing.

But I know where it went.

**Notes: SUSPENSE! ;D Oh I feel so mean, but I couldn't resist. Review, or I'll take the next chapter hostage! **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The bang is still ringing in my ears as I drop to my knees, and then completely crumple to the floor. The gun has fallen from my grasp, and has fallen to the side of me. I look to see that the bullet had ricocheted off of a pipe and had grazed my wrist. But the bullet had gone deep, creating a gash in my wrist that began to spout blood. It was completely parallel with the cuts I had created before.

Oh the irony.

"Olivia!" Elliot shouts, and he runs to my side. He is there in an instant, ripping off a shred of his shirt and wrapping it around my bleeding wrist. He is trying desperately, but there is so much blood. So much of my blood… "Olivia, stay with me! Dammit, Liv!"

"Elliot," I rasp. I watch as the blood, _my blood_, quickly snakes down my arm and soaks Elliot's shirt. He puts pressure on my wrist with his bare hand, but I smile. The blood is already seeping through his fingers and dripping to the floor. "Let me go."

"No, Liv, no!" he cries. "You are not leaving me, Benson, ya here me? YOU. ARE. NOT. LEAVING."

I open my mouth to try to speak, but I have lost my voice. I am so weak, so tired. Everything has a hazy glow around it, and my vision is going fuzzy.

"I'm so tired," I manage to rasp. "Elliot, I want to sleep."

"Don't fall asleep, Liv," Elliot sobs. He is full on crying. I can't help but smile. Elliot Bad-ass Stabler? Crying? "Liv, don't fall asleep! Ya gotta stay awake for me, okay? It'll be okay…"

I smile up at him, and watch as tears run down his cheeks. He looks at me longingly.

"Don't leave me, Liv," he whispers. "Please don't leave me."

My vision begins to fade, and the last thing I see is his face. His angelic, crying face.

"I love you, Elliot," I manage to whisper. "I'll see you on the other side."

"NOOOO!" he cries.

But I am already gone.

[Line Break]

I am standing over Elliot, watching him weep uncontrollably. It makes me uncomfortable, seeing him sob so hard like this. The Elliot I know has never been this emotional. I examine the scene further and notice he is clutching a body. His jeans are soaked in the blood, and it is dripping from his fingers as he clutches the body for dear life.

"No," he whispers. "Please don't go."

He is heartbroken, I can tell just by his voice. His eyes are red and bloodshot from crying, and the light is gone from his eyes. I walk closer to examine the body, hoping it's no one I know. Oh God, I think, I hope it's not one of his kids. I squat down by the head of the body, looking over again to see Elliot is still crying hard. I look back at the face, but it is masked by a wall of cropped brunette hair, matted in blood. It's definitely a female, I can tell.

I brush the hair out of her face, praying I don't recognize her. But I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming when I realize who it is. The body lying there, cold, pale, and lifeless, is… me. Olivia Benson. And then it hits me, like a bucket of cold water drenching me.

I'm dead. I'm dead!

"No!" I scream. "No! I didn't want this! Not like this!"

I remember all of the times I wanted to die; wanted someone to shoot me. They seem so petty and foolish, now that I am truly… dead. I never wanted this. No matter how badly my life had sucked, I realize, I _never _wanted this.

_Are you ready to go? _The familiar voice sounds behind me, and I turn to see the man from my dreams leaning against the door frame. By the first look, I know his name. He is Death. He has been taunting me. Had been taunting me. It makes me angry at this realization. _Tsk tsk, now look what you've done. I warned you to end it sooner. Now look at the mess you've made. Oh well.. it's time to go anyway. Coming?_

I flash back to a time when I was reading a book on folklore during a stakeout. I had picked it randomly to hide my face, at a library, I think, and I had chosen this one by accident. I remember the quote even now, as it had been burned into my brain:

In some cultures, Death is believed to visit and speak to those he knows will fall victim to an untimely and unfortunate death. He speaks to them in the week before their time, and prepares them for when he will come to retrieve them.

"No!" I shout, shaking my head wildly. "I don't want to go!"

_You don't have much of a choice now, Olivia, _Death tells me. He leans against the door frame and frowns. _Remember Gitano? Richard White? Lowell Harris? The countless times you've been shot and attacked? You escaped me all of those times, Olivia, but I'm not letting you slip through my fingers again. I let it slide then, but I'm done letting it slide now. You're mine, now, Olivia. You're going to have to accept that._

"Please don't make me!" I beg, pleading with all of my might. But he shakes his head.

"_It's over," he replies solemnly. "There's no going back now."_

I take in his words, watching as the paramedics shuffle over in the course of moments. They examine me, hoping, even praying, to find any signs of life. They find none. They sigh in defeat, and pry Elliot away for just enough time to drape a sheet over me respectfully.

Respect for the dead.

But suddenly, I find a spark. A tiny spark, but a spark none the less. A tiny, itty bitty spark that has kept a part of me attached to my body. To my life.

"You're wrong," I tell Death. "This isn't over."

The spark grows brighter, until I am sure Death can sense it too.

_No, _he snaps. _No! I am not letting you get away this time! You have evaded me for too long, Benson! You're had your run! Now you're mine!_

But I only smirk, grab hold of the spark with everything I have, and with a flash of light I find myself back in my body. I am in massive pain, but I manage to cough, and I know my wrist has begun to bleed again. Someone takes the sheet off of my face, and I open my eyes.

My last memories before unconsciousness are of Elliot's hopeful smile.

**Notes: I always did like a happy ending. ;) Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I wake up, and I'm in the hospital, under a bright, florescent light.

"Ow," I complain, and close my eyes again.

Like a flash of lightening, Elliot is by my bedside, grabbing my hand. He brushes some hair out of my face, and I look up at him.

"Olivia," he breathes, "you're awake!"

"Yeah, I guess so," I rasp. "El, my throat is dry. Can I have-?"

He is already putting a glass of water into my hand. I drink it tentatively, and in the meantime get a glance at my wrist. It is wrapped up in bandages, and bloodstained.

"Elliot," I whisper. "Wh-what happened to me?"

"You don't remember?" he asked.

I think on it for a second, and then nod.

"I remember," I state. "It just… seems so strange; so hazy. Like it was all a dream."

He nods, and looks at me.

"Olivia," he says softly, "I had to tell the doctors , about… about you're cutting."

I wave it off.

"They were gonna find out anyway," I sigh. "So what did they give me?"

"Anti-depressants," he answers, happy about my calmed reaction, "and weekly therapy sessions."

"Not too bad," I muse. "A lot less than I thought it would be." I look at Elliot. "How'd Captain and IAB take it?"

"IAB's gonna do monthly check-ups," he replies, looking at me gravely, "but they're up a wall about it. They want to know what a suicidal detective was doing at a standoff with a pedophile."

"Eh, they can go shove it," I reply. He laughs, and I smile. His laugh is comforting, and adds a lighter feeling to the drab room. "And Captain?" I ask. "How about him?"

Elliot hesitates before answering, and I can tell something is up.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "Did they take it well?"

"Well, Liv, they feel really guilty," he replies honestly. "They think that they should have noticed before… they think that if they had noticed, this never would have happened. And Casey is absolutely livid about how she should have done something the first time she saw the blood on your wrist."

I nod, but I know there is something he isn't telling me.

"And how do you feel?" I ask.

He hesitates before answering.

"I feel scared," Elliot finally replies softly. "And guilty. Scared, because I came so close to losing you. You _died_, Olivia. Maybe just for a little bit, but you _died. _I lost you, but then you came back. You scared me, because I thought that I'd never be able to hear you laugh or hear you speak or see you smile again."

"And why do you feel guilty?" I ask.

"Because," he answers, "I should have gotten you help sooner. If I had gotten you help sooner than I did, they would have taken you off the case, but you would have been safe!"

"Elliot, don't beat yourself up," I order firmly. "What's done is done. I survived, even if only just barely. I survived, and that's all that matters. I'm here, now, talking to you. Hearing your voice. Watching you smile. Reading your expressions. That's all I ever asked for, Elliot. I just can't believe it took me dying and coming back to see it."

Elliot grips my hand and holds it close to him.

"I love you, Olivia Benson," he says softly. "And I never want you to leave me again."

"I love you too, Elliot," I find myself replying. "I meant it when I said it to you before I died. I love you. Not just as a partner or as a best friend."

"I want you to be more than my partner and best friend," he tells me, his voice brimming with hope.

"I do too," I smile, and he kisses my cheek. "But let's take things slow. I don't want to take it too fast too far too soon."

"We'll go as slow as you want to, Olivia," Elliot smiles. "I don't want to lose you again, though."

"Don't worry," I smile, "I'm not planning on going anywhere, anytime soon."

"At least, not without me, you're not," Elliot laughs.

"No," I laugh along with him. "Not without you."

A nurse comes in suddenly, and makes me jump. Elliot puts an assuring hand on my shoulder, and I smile with relief.

"Hi there, Miss Benson," the nurse smiles, "my name is Cara. I'm just going to check on things for you and make sure everything is intact."

"Okay, thank you," I smile at the blonde nurse.

Elliot smiles and me, and rubs my hand with his thumb.

"I love you," he whispers. "More than anything in the world."

"I love you too," I whisper back. "More than anything in the universe."

"Are you trying to outdo me, Benson?" he laughs, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Maaaaybe," I laugh mockingly. "Watcha gonna do about it, Stabler? Can't beat the crap outta me, can ya?"

Instead of answering, he presses his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss. We move in synch, as though we fit perfectly with each other. Twelve years of sexual tension are unleashed in that one kiss we share, and all seems to fit together perfectly. He pulls away after a while breathing hard.

"Wow," he smiles.

"That's all you can say?" I mock.

"How about 'oh my God, wow'?" he laughs.

"Hmmm…" I smile, "I guess I can take that."

"Good," Elliot smiles. "Hey, ya know, the doc says you're gonna be out of here soon."

"Good," I laugh. "You know how much I hate hospitals."

"Yes, that I do," he replies with a grin. "They just want to keep you for a little while longer for examination."

"Oh joy," I scoff.

"Hey," he laughs, "relax." He begins to rub my hand again. "It's just for a couple of days. Then, when you're out, you can come crash at my new place."

"Does that mean…?" I begin.

"Yep," Elliot smiles. "The divorce papers went through last week. I am now officially a bachelor."

"Well, not for long, anyway," I smirk. "Consider yourself un_-_bachelored."

"Oh darn," he scoffs, snapping his fingers and making a face.

I laugh, and he smiles.

"The others want to see you," he tells me. "They want to know how you're doing."

"Oh, let 'em in!" I laugh, sitting up in my bed. I open my arms wide. "Bring on the family!"

**Notes: Sorry about the confusion last chapter... I still have a few chapters left. XD My bad. I still have maybe one more chapter left, and then I'll be doing a postscript. :) Thanks so much for your great reviews, you guys. Keep 'em coming! ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_Two years later…_

"I can't take the medicine."

"Mitchel, please-"

"I can't! It won't work! The voices will never go away!"

"Mitchel," I sooth, placing hand on the frantic young man's hand. "It's okay. They'll go away, I promise."

"How do you know they'll go away?" he demands. "How?"

I look around, as if looking to see if anyone is watching. Then, I lean in real close to his face.

"Can you keep a secret?" I ask. "It's a really big one. I can't let anyone else know."

Mitchel hesitates, then nods. He now seems eager to hear what I have to tell him.

"Tell me,'" he persists.

"I used to hear voices too," I told him in a hushed whisper. He looks at me for a second, as if trying to figure out whether I am lying to him or not. He looks at me, trying to read my expression. "I'm not lying," I assure him. "I swear it's the truth."

That seems to reassure him, and he leans in to me.

"Who would talk to you?" he asks, now very interested. "I mean, who was it that spoke to you?"

I grin and watch his face.

"Death used to talk to me," I told him in a hushed voice. His eyes widen, and I continue. "He used to tell me that I was useless, and that I was making everyone around me miserable. He would tell me to kill myself, to just get it over with. He wanted me to go with him, and I wanted him to stop talking to me. But I couldn't make the voices go away, as hard as I tried. I did everything, Mitchel, but nothing worked."

"Did you try…" Mitchel pulls up his sleeve nervously, showing me his few cuts on his wrists. Some are old, and some are new; recent marks. "Did you ever do this?"

I smile and pull up my own sleeve, showing him my own marks. There are far more on my wrists than his, and I guess he is in his early stages of the pain. My scars, however, are all faded and scarred over now.. I haven't cut myself in two years, can you believe it? I hold out my wrist for him, and he takes it into his own hand. He traces the scars with his fingers, in the way that I used to. I can see the pain behind his eyes; the silent battle that he in enduring. A silent connection is made between us in that moment. We are two of the same. Fighters. We know the pain of what hides behind the walls of our minds. And just like that, we are connected by that bond. We are not alone anymore.

"What is this one from?" He points to the deepest scar, the one from the bullet.

"That," I answer, "is from my brush with Death. I think he caused that, so I would have to go with him."

"How?" Mitchel asks, looking frightened.

I tell him the story, and I can sense the understanding in his gaze as he listens to me describe the pain I was feeling the day of the shooting. He doesn't tell me so, but I know he gets it. I can see it in his eyes.

"Wow," he announces when I am finished. "How did you get through it?"

"I took the medicine that the doctors gave me," I told him. "I took the antidepressants; I went to the therapy groups… and after a while… he stopped talking to me. Just like that, he wasn't taunting me anymore."

"How did it feel?" he asks me. I know he wants an honest answer.

"Liberating," I reply. "Like I was finally free. And in a way, I was. I never had that pain again; I never had to go through it again. I'm living my life fully now. And it feels great."

"I wish I was like you, Detective Benson," Mitchel tells me, breaking eye contact and staring at the floor. "You're so brave for doing that… I… I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Do you want it to stop?" I ask him. He looks at me and nods. "Then you're ready."

"Okay," he nods. He looks more confident now, and I can see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I'll take the medicine."

"Okay," he nods. He looks more confident now, and I can see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I'll take the medicine."

"Thank you, Mitchel," I smile, sighing with relief.

"No, Detective Benson," he grins. "Thank _you_."

After I talked to Mitchel, he took his medication. He was our star witness in our trial, and we won the case. He still continues to make progress to this day. I was able to help him out of the rut he was digging himself into, and some days I call him to see how he's doing. My job has improved as well, because I can identify with a lot more of the victims now. Elliot and I are to be married in July, and, thanks to Cragen pulling some major strings with IAB, we still remain partners. Elliot and I plan on a beach wedding, along the East Coast. Down on the water in North Carolina, where most of his family now lives. We want to have kids. We want to grow old together. And I can't help but think that this was the life I almost threw away. I could have thrown a marriage, children, and a life, all for nothing. And despite the medication, I still do hear Death from time to time. He still tries to get me, but I can push him away now. After a long time, however, he finally stops. Because I have won.

And one day, when Elliot and I grow old, we will go together into the Great Devine. Death and I will reunite as old friends; as equals. I will have lived a happy life, and I will have thanked my God for giving me the friends He did.

Well I guess that's my story! I mean, I could probably tell you the rest, but I don't think you'd find it interesting. Not as interesting as what I told you, anyway. I hoped you enjoyed, or it at least kept you entertained. I know it left me with a lot to think about. Elliot and I also want to thank you for wanting to make this into a novel, Julie! I was thrilled when you told me that you wanted others to know my story. _Somber Beauty _by Julie Harrison! I'll look for it soon on the shelves at the local Borders! We hope to see you soon, take care!

Best Wishes,

Olivia Benson (Soon to be Stabler)

**Notes: I'm planning on doing a postscript, so keep your eyes open. :) Thanks for reading and please don't forget to review! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Post Script for Disturbia-SilvrBlade's POV ;)**

**Hey, all. Just wanted to say a few words before I lay Disturbia to rest for good.**

**I was very happy with the response to this story, especially considering its dark nature, and quite graphic content. I bet a lot of you were thinking that the hardest part was getting into Olivia's head and portraying her thoughts for the world to see. But to tell the truth, that really wasn't hard. I think the concept of putting it into actual words was the hardest part; the pain is really just so hard to describe! There are no true words, and as Olivia said before, "You'll never know what it's like until you feel it yourself." The state of mind Olivia was in was a cruel and unforgiving one, and is not something I would wish upon **_**anyone, **_**not even my worst enemy. **

**The state of mind is also complex, as is the mind of the cutter. But I guess, in a sense, they are one and the same. I shall give you a peek, a small taste of what it is like… that is, if you dare. **

_**The term "cutting" sends shivers up our spines, because saying it makes it so real to us. When we are under, nothing seems real, and everything seems hazy. We are dragged down by the emotional and mental pain we feel, and we don't know what to do or where it has come from. Some of us can muddle through, but others, like Olivia, well, we can't say for sure if we'll ever make it out alive. Some of us don't. **_

_**Sometimes we begin to blame ourselves. If we hadn't been so foolish, we might have seen it coming. Or, if we hadn't been so selfish, we wouldn't have had it inflicted upon us by God, or whoever we think it has come from. But these things only drag us down farther and farther, until we are so deep we can't get back up. We have lost sight of what once held us up, and we blame ourselves once again. We let this happen. We did nothing to fight. And that's where the cutting comes in.**_

_**Again, we don't like the term "cutting", but I can think of no other way of putting it. Anyway, it's the one way we feel empowered. Like it is the punishment we take, or even just the release of the pain. But then it comes back, and we have to cut again. And again. And again. We always see the marks and the scars, and we are ashamed. We don't want to, but we have to. It's how we keep ourselves in check, and how we manage to make sure we have not completely lost all feeling. It's also our way of calling out for help; our signal flare that we hope others will answer. But sometimes, people never do. **_

_**We live among you, every day though you never realize. We are the people you pass on the streets. We are the strangers who sell you coffee. We are the clerks in the store, helping you find your purchase. We are the joggers who pass you in the park. But do you notice our pain; our suffering? No. You don't. We hide it, because we feel we will be isolated and fear being called freaks. We always think to ourselves, maybe tomorrow someone will notice. Maybe tomorrow. Yes, definitely tomorrow. But more and more tomorrows pass by, and we live our lives in solitude. The noble silence of our fight, and we are the only ones who can tell the story. So ask us, one day. Our answer might surprise you. **_

_**But there is one thing I can promise that you will always hear:**_

_**"I never, ever thought it could ever happen to me."**_

**Well, I guess that's my story then. I hope it wasn't just a good read, but perhaps it changed your thinking. Not for the worse, I hope, but changed nonetheless. Thanks so much for reading, you guys, and don't forget to review! I know there are more of you out there than the amazing people who hav already reviewed (11Alexandria7, lawandorderSVUismylife, PeaceMariiPeace, ashleysvureader, and brianna)! And if any of you have any questions regarding the story/plot/etc., I'd be happy to answer them! Just send me a PM! Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review! ;D **

_**And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand./ When everything's meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. **__**Lyrics from Iris, by The Goo Goo Dolls.**_


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